She threw him his car keys. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. Earles attended her obsequiously to the door. The chair had extension arms over which a man might comfortably dangle his legs.
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